


Case 57: The Adventure Of The Ninth Doctor (1887)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [74]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Jealousy, Johnlock - Freeform, Leather Trousers, London, M/M, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Sherlock grows concerned about a visiting doctor at the practice. Concerned; he is NOT jealous in any way, shape or form.Shut up!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majesticduxk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticduxk/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

This whole sorry business began when Watson came home from the surgery one Saturday looking even more fed up than usual, which considering some of the patients he had to treat on a regular basis was some achievement.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as he slumped down into his chair. The July heat was stifling and I had our huge window opened as far as it would go (there was a safety-catch on it, presumably to discourage me from attempting to throw any annoying lounge-lizard brothers out of it, but I was sure I could work round that one day). 

Watson sighed heavily.

“The surgery is to entertain a visiting doctor from the Isle of Man for a week before he heads off abroad somewhere”, he said looking decidedly disgruntled. “And I am to have the 'great honour' of having the young fellow follow me around for seven days so he can see what the life of a city doctor is like and how we do things differently from his Manx colleagues.”

“Do you know the fellow?” I asked.

“A Doctor Nonus Hugh”, he said. “Weird name.”

I smiled at his attitude.

“Possibly a ninth child”, I ventured. “ _Nonus_ is Latin for nine.”

“Please God no!” he groaned. “Having to put up with one overly keen tyro asking me questions every five seconds is bad enough, without eight more in line behind him.”

I chuckled, unaware that the visiting Manxman was indeed going to bring troubles. And not just for Watson.

֍

Doctor Hugh was, Watson told me, staying somewhere not far away and would come to Baker Street each morning to walk with him to the surgery . He duly turned up early Monday morning and I was frankly not that impressed. He was an almost otherworldly fellow of about thirty years of age with short-cropped dark hair and a strange taste in black clothing, a medium-length black leather jacket over trousers that were far too right for any gentleman outside of my half-brother's molly-houses. He regarded me somewhat curiously although he was polite enough and even if I did not think much of the fellow I hoped that my friend would be able to tolerate him for a week. I saw them both off and looked forward to a quiet week in as my workload had been heavy of late.

I was not to get my wish.

֍

“That new friend of the doctor's is dangerous.”

I looked up in surprise at our landlady. I had wondered why Mrs. Harvelle had come to collect the luncheon things herself, a task she normally delegated to one of the maids. She clearly wished to speak to me about something. I thought instinctively of that rifle; I was fairly sure I had done nothing to earn her displeasure as of late.

“What new friend?” I asked.

“The tall fellow who left with the doctor”, she said. “I do not trust him.”

“Why?” I asked, puzzled. “And why do you call him dangerous?”

“He was far too close to the doctor when he left”, she said shortly. “There is something not of this world about the fellow. I cannot put my finger on it but I do not like it. And the way he talks as if the doctor is the oracle at that Greek place, looking at him like he... you know.”

I did not 'know'. But I did not like the idea of anyone looking at Watson like that. My friend was not the sort of fellow to deserve that sort of thing.

Mrs. Harvelle took away the dishes and I thought for a few moments before deciding that a walk might help clear my head. And if it chanced to take me in a certain direction then that would be just one of those things.

֍

Miss Gladys Peabody was one of those elderly ladies who radiated an aura of absolute efficiency. I knew from Watson that she ran the affairs of the Bloomsbury Practice in all but name and was certainly of far more use than the supposed 'men in charge' all of whom I strongly suspected were more than a little afraid of her. Although I did not like the knowing look that she gave me when I said that I had happened to have been passing.

“I am afraid that you have just missed him, Mr. Holmes”, she said sweetly. “Doctor Cadwallon's wife has gone into labour two weeks ahead of her time so he is not in, and your friend along with his new 'colleague' has been sent out to cover some of his calls.”

I did not like the way that she said 'colleague'. At all.

“Mr. Hugh is _very_ charming”, the secretary went on, hopefully unaware of what her words were doing to my insides. “Doctor Watson had one patient before he had to leave and it is the first time that I have ever seen old Mrs. Cowley smiling when she came out after her appointment. And quite shameless for someone married and of her age; she said that she thought tight black leather trousers were a most wondrous thing on a gentleman!”

I thanked her for her time – I could be insincere when the need arose – and left. I had another call to make.

֍

There should have been no earthly way that even the efficient offices of Miss Charlotta Bradbury could have been aware of my friend's new assistant for the week. Yet when I happened past Middleton's and called in to see her, there was something that was perilously close to a smirk on her face. That was blatantly unfair; I never smirked on the few occasions that I caught Watson out.

Hardly ever.

Not that often. _And it was still annoying when someone else did it!_

“You are doubtless here about the _wonderful_ Doctor Nonus Hugh”, she smiled. “Rarely have I seen someone charm so much of London in so short a time. It is amazing what a pair of tight black leather trousers can achieve.”

I winced at the reminder. I did not need to think of the Manx doctor like that just now because he was with Watson and I... I just did not need to think of it!

“Do you wish me to find some dirt on him?” she said lightly. “Almost everyone has some skeletons in the closet, you know, and someone as young and good-looking as him must have quite a few. We both know how 'jealous' _some_ people can get.”

I frowned.

“I do not want to make Watson think that I do not trust him to go round with a moderately attractive fellow of early middle age”, I said very fairly, 'missing' her renewed smirk. “I shall deal with it myself.”

Unfortunately I did not.

֍

If I had known any different I would have thought Watson was doing it deliberately that evening. He was full of how wonderful 'Norry' had been, how helpful, how obliging, what a wonderful addition to the medical profession he was, how England would miss him when he was gone.... ugh!

“You seem a little off”, he said after what had seemed like several hours of underserved adulation for some questionable person of alien extraction. “Is something wrong?”

“Just family matters again”, I said. “Luke's financial dealings are causing problems again.”

That at least was true. My second eldest brother was the richest of my siblings because he had invested in many things, most of which were dubious and quite a few of which were downright illegal. Fortunately for him he was both charming and creative, and Mother liked him because he often gave her ideas for her dreadful stories over which the bastard would then absent himself so that the rest of us had to suffer them!

“We shall be in the surgery for the next few days”, he said, “as they are getting in a locum to do Glyn's work. We have more than our fair share of crotchety people in our area but Norry certainly charmed the few that we saw yesterday.”

Oh 'Norry' did, did 'Norry'? I frowned and went back to my book.

֍

Tuesday was a big improvement on Monday – not! I watched the Manxman carefully when he arrived and sure enough he was far too far inside Watson's personal space, somewhere only... those close to him should be allowed. My friend was smiling way too much for someone who faced a dull day dealing with a bunch of rich hypochondriacs who were desperately hoping to be diagnosed with a severe case of Whipsnade-Umfolozi Syndrome rather than a mild seasonal cough.

Watson popped his head back round the door and grabbed his hat from the coat-stand.

“Forgot it in all the excitement”, he smiled. “Is everything all right? You still look a bit down.”

“I am fine”, I lied. “You go enjoy your day.”

“I will!” he grinned. “See you later!”

I had never seen him so chipper before he went to work. This was terrible!

֍

“I have good news and I have bad news.”

I looked uncertainly at Miss Charlotta Bradbury whose offices I had again just happened to be passing on an unexpected morning walk. And whose smirk was still annoying!

“Concerning what?” I asked.

“I had a feeling yesterday that you would be back to ask me about a certain tight-trousered manly Manxman”, she said (I scowled at her omniscience). “So I put the wheels in motion.”

I was a little annoyed at her presumption and, if truth be told, my own predictability.

“What did you find out?” I asked not at all eagerly. “Is that the good news or the bad news?”

“Both.”

I stared at her in confusion.

“There is nothing in his past that is remotely scandalous”, she said. “Despite his lifestyle, nothing. A plethora of satisfied clients with not a whiff of scandal.”

“I suppose that is good”, I said. “For those he works with.”

She frowned.

“That is also the bad news”, she said. “There is _nothing_ in his past that is remotely scandalous.”

I looked at her in confusion.

“I mean _really_ nothing”, she said. “It is more difficult what with his coming from what is to all intents and purposes a separate country but he has somehow contrived to live thirty years in this world without committing a single error of judgement whatsoever. I simply do not believe it!”

“You think that someone has tampered with the official records?” I asked.

“I _suspect_ that they have”, she said. “But there is no evidence save that everything looks just too good. The only thing I found did not concern him directly; the cousin of some sort with whom he shared his house, a Mr. Octavian Hugh, went off somewhere and disappeared but he was traced to London so your Mr. Hugh cannot have been involved in that as he was still on Man at the time. Unless he grew wings and flew all the way down here!”

I was beginning to get worried. I did not like this fellow at all.

֍

I returned home thinking that I could not feel any lower. It took the universe but a few hours to prove me wrong. Watson arrived home and I realized to my horror that the tune he was humming as he sat waiting for dinner was a music-hall ballad – a romantic one! 

He caught my gaze and blushed.

“Romance”, he said sounding almost wistful. “It comes to all of us in the end.”

Apparently I _could_ feel lower. And now I did.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

On Wednesday Miss Joanna Harvelle totally disgraced herself by showing Mr. Hugh up and then leering at his choice in trouser wear. I toyed with the idea of mentioning this to her mother next time I could catch her working on her rifle but decided that such a thing would be beneath me.

Probably.

Looking out of the huge window I saw the two men walking off towards the surgery. With John's improved financial situation of late he could have afforded a cab but he had said that he enjoyed the exercise, and particularly enjoyed time to chat with 'Norry' away from when they were busy with patients. I scowled for no particular reason and went back to my book.

֍

On Thursday I may or may not have employed the services of one of London's top burglars to break into the oddly-named 'Tardis House', Doctor Hugh's lodgings, to see if she could find anything at all incriminating. I had used Miss Gorringe for such tasks before so she knew what was required but sadly she came up with very little.

“A few odd things about that room of his”, she told me when she came round later. “I know you said that he is only passing through the area but there were almost no personal effects whatsoever. The only thing of note was a photograph album.”

“Anything in it?” I asked hopefully.

“His family, and they are a strange lot”, she said. “They seem to have a fetish for Roman number names, you know the sort; Primus, Secundus and so on. And only one picture of each. None of them were much to look at. And there were three spaces after the picture of him, with the corner stickers in place as if someone had removed a photograph. Then there was his own little thing for the number nine; anything that he could reasonably have nine of he did. Still, I have seen weirder in my time.”

I did not doubt that she had, in her profession.

“The third thing makes no sense at all”, she frowned, “but I rely on my senses so I shall say it anyway. The room seemed a lot bigger on the inside than out. I did not have a tape-measure on me but looking at the doors and windows on the outside of the place, it should not have been that big. Yet it seemed at least twice the size it should have been. Maybe he is some traveller across the relative dimensions of time and space.”

As well as being one of the best thieves in London Town, Miss Elvira Gorringe was also one of its leading scientists. One certainly got variety living here!

“I can only hope he does indeed travel on”, I said. “Did you perchance find out if he is indeed moving on at the weekend?”

“His landlady's books only have him there until Sunday”, she said with far too knowing a smile. “From what I hear of the fellow's impact on the city he will be missed by many.”

“Many but not all”, I said not at all sourly.

֍

The following morning we had an early visitor. Mrs. Harvelle Did Not Like visitors to the house before a decent hour of a morning, but one of the few who was allowed in was Mr. Edward Bell, the friend of Mr. Benjamin Hope whom we had rescued from the Tankerville Club some eight years back. Mr. Bell had at the time been of slender build (although in no way as emaciated as his poor friend) but had since filled out into his current impressive form, although he looked a little battered as he arrived to our rooms.

“We had a party of men – I will not say gentlemen – at the house last night”, he explained. “They had to be removed this morning and I think I pulled something in my neck. Can Doctor Watson have a look at me, sir?”

As well as working as a constable in the Metropolitan Police Mr. Bell worked as extra security at several of my half-brother Campbell's molly-houses, especially at times like this when they had large parties who might (and too often did) cause this sort of trouble. He did not 'swing that way' as our landlady put it and had married some three years back now having two sons, but that of course required money. He was also a proud man and did not take help easily, but Watson and I had managed to persuade him to accept a gift on the birth of his first-born son who shared his name and Watson had treated the boy one time when he had been ill.

“Of course”, Watson smiled. “Do you wish to go on ahead, Norry?”

'Norry' smiled.

“I shall wait”, he said. “A neck injury, sir?”

“Yes”, Mr. Bell said. “Like the one I had before. Do you happen to have any of that unguent that you used last time, Doctor Watson?”

“Not here”, Watson said, “but when we get to the surgery I shall send a jar over to the house for you. St. George Street, I remember.”

“You might ask the person who applies it to warm it for ten minutes first”, 'Norry' suggested. “That makes it far more effective in treating strains and pulls.”

“Thank you, sir”, Mr. Bell smiled. “I shall do that.”

I did not scowl. At all.

֍

.  
Watson arrived home that evening not looking so happy. My spirits rose; perhaps Mr. Perfect was finally beginning to show his human side after all!

Shut up.

“Our last patient was out Colindale way”, he said, “so we dropped in to see if Mr. Bell was all right. He said that the heat thing had worked wonders.”

Drat!

“That is good”, I lied. 

“And your half-brother Campbell was visiting him at the time”, Watson said. “He said that if Alan would not have killed him then, in his words, 'he would have tapped that'.”

I shook my head at such an attitude.

“He did say that it was a pity Norry was going abroad as that was two men lost to the business”, Watson smiled. “I suppose I should be flattered; Norry is so much more attractive than I.”

No he is not!

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, I said not at all sententiously. “Not everyone can like this friend of yours.”

He chuckled.

“Even Lady Budleigh who we passed in the street leered at his rear”, he smiled. “And with her husband standing right next to her. He was not best pleased!”

I scowled. 

“No man should go round London Town expecting every single lady to leer at him just because of his appearance”, I said.

Watson coughed for some reason.

֍

Saturday, and only one full day to go as 'Norry' was taking the Sunday night train to wherever abroad he was going (wherever it was it was not far enough). Things really could not be worse!

As it turned out, they could. 'Norry' called to collect Watson on their last full day of work and they talked briefly before heading out. But on his way to the door 'Norry's shoe-lace fell undone and he stopped to kneel down and deal with it. There was a horrible sound of ripping leather and when he stood up.... he was clearly not going out like that!

I did not smirk. Which was just as well because I was about to have no reason to after all.

“What a pity”, Watson said. “Never mind. I can loan you a pair of mine – we are about the same size – and you can give them back to me tomorrow.”

The two went into his room where, I slowly realized, 'Norry' was removing his trousers and....

Very poor quality pencils they make these days. They snap under the slightest pressure.

֍

The two of them emerged after what seemed like an eternity, 'Norry' clearly far too comfortable in his new wear.

“Your trousers are very nice”, John”, he smiled. “I must get the name of your tailor and see if he ships to my next port of call. These are very roomy.”

He looked at me with what was definitely a knowing smirk. I waited for him to go and then glared at the clock on the mantle-piece.

“Tick faster, damn you!” I muttered.

֍

Watson did not work Sundays but the following day his plans to go and say goodbye to his new 'friend' were scuppered when one of the surgery's richer clients contrived to fall down her stairs while drunk. He therefore had to go all the way out to New Cross and I did not smirk at that fact in any way, shape or form. Or if I did there was no-one there to see it.

My friend may have missed the departure of the unwanted 'Norry' but I did not. The fellow came to Baker Street to return Watson's trousers and I explained his absence still without smirking.

“John once said that his brother up North calls him the King of Denial”, 'Norry' grinned.

I did not like anyone calling my friend 'John' instead of 'Watson', but I merely nodded.

“They have the relationship of most siblings”, I said thinking wryly of my own completely dysfunctional family. “But they do stand by each other at the end of the day and that is what is important.”

“John is very likeable”, 'Norry' agreed. “But he is not really the King of Denial in this house, is he Mr. Holmes?”

“I am afraid that I do not follow”, I said coolly.

He snorted his disbelief.

“You all but growled at me when I went into his room to change yesterday”, he said.

“That was a cough!” I said not at all defensively.

“And you have very clearly resented my presence all week”, he said. “I am leaving his life now but remember; _your_ luck cannot last forever. Sooner or later someone – man or woman – is going to come along and take him if you do not. Hero-worship like what he has for you can only take a relationship so far.”

I scowled. I had indeed sometimes thought that Watson did 'hero-worship' me a little, but this jackanapes was not the sort of person to be spotting that.

“I wish you well in your endeavours”, I said politely.

“And I you in yours”, he smiled. “Take care of him – before someone else does!”

He bowed and left. I scowled then went to the window to watch him depart, to make sure that he was indeed leaving never to return. I saw him emerge from the front door, look briefly up at my window (I was sure there was a smirk even at this distance) and then set off towards the tube station.

There was the sound of yelling from the other end of the street and I was briefly distracted from my vigil. Only for a few seconds at most but when I turned back he was gone. I stared in surprise. There were not many people about just then and he would not have had the time to duck into any of the houses. Where on earth had he gone? And why, just as I turned back, had I caught some brief blue flashing light?

֍


End file.
